Thing for you
by Eve and Mexx
Summary: Rick and Evelyn's first date.


Thing For You

By Eve and Mexx 

Rick and Evelyn's first date.

However much we like to play with them, the characters included in this fic are the property of Stephen Sommers.

+++

//I feel like you know me

I know well I know I know you do

I've got this thing going on

Inside my head

I've got this thing for you//

It was one of the most bizarre faces Evelyn had ever made, which was saying a great deal: she stood, her wrist inches from her face, squinting herself cross-eyed, her tongue protruding ever so slightly. It was quite grotesque, really. If Rick O'Connell had walked in at that particular moment, the evening might have ended right then and there.

"Evie, I don't know why you're getting you knickers in such a twist about this--it's only dinner with a rowdy yank!" remarked Evelyn's elder brother, Jonathan, as he watched her flutter about the room in an anxious haste. "I remember a time when you couldn't stand the bloke, and now you're all in a tizz over what he's going to think?"

Seeing her squint at the elegant little watch on her wrist, he sighed in mild amusement; it was apparent that his sister had forgone wearing her glasses in an attempt to impress her date for the evening. After seeing their behaviour around each other for the last week, Jonathan had no doubt that his sweet baby sister would have no difficulty in impressing O'Connell. Still, Jonathan prided himself on being nothing if not annoying. 

"I don't know why you don't just wear your bloody specs! It's not like O'Connell hasn't already seen you at your very worst..."

"Ooooph." Evelyn scowled at her brother. "I am not wearing my glasses simply because I do not need them this evening."

Jonathan chuckled. "Oh, bollocks, sis. It's sheer vanity."

Evelyn glanced at herself in the mirror for what Jonathan estimated to be about the thousandth time--at least. He couldn't quite fathom why she was nervous; after all, hadn't the whole idea of going out on an "official" first date been hers to begin with? 

It had, in fact. Evelyn had become increasingly worried about the informal nature of her relationship with Rick O'Connell, and so she'd felt the need to establish some sort of formal courting procedure. Evelyn was someone who always had a procedure, or a protocol, or a plan, and the alarmingly slapdash manner in which she'd fallen into intimate association with Rick had caused more than one sleepless night in the Carnahan household.

Rick was not the type of man who courted women. He liked women, sure; a little too much for his own good, sometimes. Over the years, he'd associated with many women in various capacities. But formality just wasn't his style. Still, what Evelyn wanted from him, Evelyn usually got, and this particular issue was no exception.

However, Rick _was the type of man who'd be late for any occasion, no matter the importance of the woman involved, and at two minutes past the hour, Evelyn was already becoming restless. She was worried that any type of date may have constituted something too much akin to commitment for Rick's liking, and that he'd simply decided to cancel the date, to keep himself from becoming attached._

Jonathan noticed his sister's perceptible agitation, and mused out loud that Rick was probably as nervous as she was, and was off fiddling with his tie in front of some grotty mirror. "That is," he added snidely, "If that toe-rag is even wearing a tie."

"Oh really, Jonathan…" Evelyn glared at Jonathan, sprawled over the cushioned seat in the corner of the room. "You're one to talk about taking pride in your appearance--there's not a day goes by that you don't walk about with some nasty stain spattered on your shirt."

Rick had, in fact, worn a tie--the third one he'd ever owned in his entire life. He'd bought it in the _suq, from a man with one tooth, who had assured him it was the very same pattern worn by the Duke of York. Rick took this with a grain of salt--but hey, the price was right, and the pattern was pretty neat. Not exactly what you'd call subtle, but then, neither was Rick himself._

He'd arrived outside Evelyn's door approximately twenty minutes early; he'd been on the verge of ringing the bell, when it occurred to him that he might seem too eager. So he went back into the street, and tried to find some way to occupy himself until the time was right. Maybe he'd get her something--chocolates. She liked chocolates, didn't she? He wasn't sure. Besides, if he bought her chocolates, she'd probably leave them at the house with Jonathan, who'd eat them all. Maybe flowers, then.

Having come to this conclusion, he then wandered around the neighbourhood, trying to track down a flower vendor. Typical. When he didn't need them, he was practically tripping over them, but now... he finally managed to locate one--he could have sworn it was the same guy who'd sold him the tie, although there was definitely more than one nearly-toothless merchant in Cairo--and purchased a motley bouquet of wildflowers. Thus armed, he proceeded to Evelyn's door. He was only a few minutes late... she probably wouldn't even notice.

At the shrill sound of the doorbell, Evelyn nearly jumped out of her skin. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she approached the door to let him in, and her fingers trembled as she reached for the lock-–what if he thought her nervousness was silly and childish? What if he dismissed her carefully chosen dress with an ill-favored glance? No, she thought resolutely, this was the same Rick O'Connell that had kissed her so sweetly as the city of Hamunaptra crumbled behind them, the same man who had sat behind her the whole journey from the desert to Cairo and whispered softly in her ear, and kissed her neck with such a delicate sensuality, and promised her he'd never let her out of his sight again.

She nodded decisively and opened the door to reveal the impeccably-dressed American standing on her porch--impeccably dressed, that is, except for his tie. Nevertheless, his boots were polished, his black trousers were neatly pressed, and his freshly-laundered navy shirt set off his twinkling eyes.

Rick, for his part, couldn't take his eyes of the beauty standing in front of him. From head to toe she looked amazing. Gone was the bookish librarian that had coyly smiled at him on their first meeting at Cairo prison; this rapturous beauty took his breath away. Her long black gown was both modest and appealing--hiding everything, but at the same time implying every damn thing.

After spending what couldn't have been more than a few seconds drinking in the site of her, Rick's eyes finally met Evelyn's. "Evie…" he exhaled softly.

Neither one spoke immediately--and then both started at once, stopped, started again, stopped again. Jonathan, watching the little scene unfold, rolled his eyes and gave a derisive snort. At this rate, they'd never leave the doorstep.

Finally Evelyn stammered, "Oh, well, you... you look..."

"_You_ look..."

"I like your..." She gestured vaguely, indicating the entire outfit.

"Yeah, yours is..." He echoed the gesture. Then, seeing as they were both at a loss for words, he decided it was time for action, and grabbed her around the waist, intending to pull her in for a kiss.

"Excuse me--!" yelped Evelyn, shoving him away.

Jonathan snickered.

"What?" Rick demanded, confused. He just wanted to show her how great he thought she looked--and it wasn't like they'd never kissed before... they'd done quite a lot of kissing on the way back from Hamunaptra, in fact. It couldn't even be the audience she objected to, since Jonathan had been with them the entire time.

Rick attempted to slip his arm around Evie's waist and guide her away from her brother's prying eyes, but she neatly sidestepped his hand. "Rick," she snapped, "it isn't proper to behave like that in early courtship, and I'll bid you not to--" She was cut off mid-sentence as Rick, despite her instructions not to do so, wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her close and placing his kiss on the shocked little 'o' of her lips. He didn't draw out the kiss as much as he would have liked, but he felt the need to express with actions what his words had failed to convey.

"You look nice," he added lamely, stepping back.

Jonathan had been witness to a great many things in his life, but this was the first time he'd ever seen his sister rendered absolutely speechless. It was a marvellous thing to see, and he wished he had a camera, as he very much doubted it would happen again.

Before she could recover her wits sufficiently to resume lecturing her escort on his pre-date etiquette, her brother took matters into his own hands. Seeing that Evelyn was making no move to take the flowers, Jonathan yanked them out of O'Connell's hand, announcing, "Good show! You look smashing, he looks..." he cast a deliberate glance over the tie, but elected not to bring it up, "er, presentable, and I'm sure you're both eager to be on your way..." When neither of them moved, he added, "O'Connell, old man, you will have her back by a respectable hour, won't you?"

Rick nodded. He doubted Jonathan knew what a respectable hour was, but didn't ask for specifics.

"Right, then." He waved them in the direction of the door. Still neither of them moved. "Yes. Well. Bugger off," he said succinctly.

Evelyn paused for a moment, not sure whether to be angry at either of the two men in the room. Rick, she was certain, had overstepped his mark of gentleman by a mile--but who could resent a man when he kissed her like _that_? Jonathan, meanwhile, had rudely interrupted what could have been a special moment between herself and Rick; but then, with her brother around, Evelyn had learned that nothing could be considered sacred. She chose to ignore Jonathan, shoot Rick a coy look, and take charge of the situation. She placed a kiss on her brother's cheek and muttered a hasty goodbye, before slipping her hand through the crook of Rick's arm and leading him out the door.

As soon as they were out of Jonathan's earshot, Evelyn leaned a little closer to Rick, and whispered in his ear, "This is a first date, Rick, and I expect you to act like a gentleman from here on out."

Rick smiled down at Evelyn upon hearing the playful tone of her voice, knowing that she wasn't quite serious, but still expected him to behave in line.

+++

The restaurant was among the finest in Cairo: Evelyn had only been there once before, for coffee with Jonathan, and had been astounded by the price of the simple outing--particularly since Jonathan had pulled his usual "forgot my wallet" trick when it came time to settle the bill. There was little chance of that happening tonight, at least...

They were seated at a lovely table. Evelyn paused by her chair, waiting for Rick to pull it out for her; when he didn't, the maitre d' obliged, with a look that suggested the winsome young lady could obviously do better in her choice of companion. Evelyn was a bit nonplussed, but only momentarily; after all, manners weren't _everything..._

The atmosphere was perfect: candlelight, flowers, and wine. Evelyn left the selection of this last item to her companion, since her knowledge on the subject was confined to what fragmentary information she'd gleaned from her brother and his chums--and almost anything drinkable was fine by them. She squinted at the menu, trying to discern what she was looking at, but nothing was legible. She almost wished she'd worn her glasses--although Rick's reaction at the door had been worth a little inconvenience. She flashed him a smile and inquired, "What looks good to you?"

Her gaze caught his, and the look in his eyes told her he was not thinking about what looked good on the menu, but rather eyeing up something delectable elsewhere. Evelyn blushed, but held his gaze. Their eyes remained locked for several moments, and it was Rick whose eyes finally darted away. He was used to brazen women--he'd known enough of them in his time--but Evelyn's coy smiles and sideways glances left him at a loss for words.

At last, unsure what to do, he answered her question in the spirit in which it had been asked. "The, uh… I guess the… steak?" 

Evelyn's eyes returned to her menu. She didn't see steak anywhere; she was only able to make out a few words, and those she was certain of didn't make any sense. (What sort of restaurant serves boiled shoes?) "I think that's what I'll have, too," she remarked, extricating herself neatly, then folded her menu on the table in front of her. Rick's face had suddenly disappeared behind his own menu.

"Okay--great," he muttered. "Sounds good."

She craned her neck, trying to peek at him over the top of the menu. Was he playing hard to get, suddenly? It didn't seem likely, considering the way he'd kissed her at her front door... thinking about this prompted Evelyn to smile, and sigh, and completely fail to notice that Rick seemed to be trying to hide from someone seated just behind her and to the left.

Only moments before, Rick had experienced some minor discomfort as Stephanie--a girl he'd had the pleasure of, well, pleasuring, only a month before--entered the restaurant. However, when Stephanie and the old woman accompanying her were seated behind Evelyn, his discomfort became blind panic at the thought that Evelyn, ever the prim and proper English lady, would uncover the truth of what his life had been before he met her. Rick hadn't exactly lied to Evelyn when responding to her never-ending plethora of questions; however, he had chosen not to disclose certain pursuits that had occupied his time--namely, women, drinking, women, various illegal activities, and women.

Rick was momentarily stunned when Evelyn began speaking, oblivious to the blonde woman sitting behind her. "Are you feeling quite all right, Rick?" she inquired, concerned. "You seem a little off-colour…"

"I... uh..." he darted yet another glance over Evelyn's shoulder, then ducked behind his menu again. This was dumb, he thought. He was behaving like a child. He and Stephanie were adults; neither of them had been interested in any long-term arrangements, and he was very obviously here on a date with someone else... he lowered his menu and smiled at Evelyn, hoping his face didn't betray him. "Just a little nervous, I guess," he told her, punctuating the little confession with his most charming smile. It was true, after all; she didn't need to know that his nervousness was caused by the leggy blonde seated behind her.

Evelyn smiled, reached across the table, and took his hand. "You're sweet to worry, Rick. But everything's been wonderful--in fact, the only thing that would make the evening perfect is something to eat! I'm famished!" She didn't particularly fancy steak, but perhaps she could inquire if there were a house specialty...

Just then, Stephanie caught sight of Rick, waved, and blew him a little kiss--at the exact same moment that Evelyn just happened to glance over her shoulder, looking for the waiter. Rick didn't acknowledge either the kiss or the wave as Evelyn slowly turned back to face him. Maybe she hadn't seen it. After all, she didn't have her glasses on...

"Who... is that woman?"

Right. Farsighted, not nearsighted. Damn.

"Uh… woman?" Rick tried to look innocent. After all, he hadn't actually done anything wrong. He couldn't be held accountable for what he did before he was even aware of Evelyn's existence... could he? "What woman?"

Evelyn was not swayed by his feigned innocence. Quite pleasantly, as though making ordinary dinner conversation, she replied, "Oh, you know the one. The nasty little trollop sitting behind me, making kissy faces at you." She crossed her arms across her chest, and waited for an explanation.

"Uh…" Rick's eyes darted involuntarily to Stephanie, who seemed to have moved on to flirting with the waiter serving her table.

"Rick… the woman?" Evelyn prompted.

"She was, uh, a friend of mine," Rick began tactfully, hoping she would let it rest at that.

Evelyn looked at him expectantly.

"Well, okay, I guess you could say she was... uh... more than a friend." Rick waited for the information to sink in.

Evelyn's face fell. "Oh," she said quietly.

"I've been with a few women in my time, Evie," he admitted, shamefaced. "I mean, I didn't know if you knew, but I'm not a--"

Evelyn, having regained her composure, interrupted with, "Well, I wouldn't have expected it of a man of your... outlook on life. After all, I'm not as naive as you and my brother believe me to be. There are plenty of things I haven't told _you_, either, you know."

Rick paused for a moment, unsure how to take this revelation. She didn't mean _she_ wasn't a virgin, did she? Rather than keep quiet, like any sensible man, Rick voiced his question: "Are you not a… you know…?"

Evelyn was speechless for the second time that evening, completely dumbfound that Rick would dare to ask her that--in a public place, no less!

"I do beg your pardon?" she finally managed to utter.

Rick shifted uncomfortably. He couldn't say for sure, but he suspected this was not typical first date conversation. "You know," he repeated, with a vague gesture that could have signified any number of things. "Have--have you ever...?"

She straightened in her chair, and fixed him with the coldest look he'd ever gotten in his life. "That," she informed him, "is for me to know."

"And me to find out?" He knew it was a bad move the second he heard himself saying it.

"Not the way you're going!" she snapped.

"Look," he continued, trying to mend the fence he'd somehow managed to blunder his way across, "you just surprised me, that's all. I guess I didn't expect you, of all people... but, I mean, it's okay if you're not."

"So nice to have your approval, _Mister O'Connell."_

"And--and it's okay if you are, too!" he exclaimed desperately. "It doesn't matter to me."

"Oh, so now you don't care a rap _what I do?"_

"Honey..."

"I have a name. Please use it."

Ouch. Okay, this was definitely not going well.

Thankfully for Rick, the waiter arrived before he could dig himself any deeper. "I'll have the ten ounce rare steak. Hon--uh, Evelyn, what was it you wanted?"

Evelyn shot him a sharp glare before turning to the waiter and requesting the same meal as Rick. After all, she was pretty sure she didn't want the boiled shoe. The waiter wrote down both orders and left precipitately.

"I'm sorry," Rick offered. In an attempt to make peace, he poured Evelyn a glass of the wine the waiter had brought, then one for himself.

"I should think so, too," she replied rather curtly, before downing her wine in one, unladylike swig. "Now, if you'll excuse me," she continued, setting the empty glass down on the table, "I have to visit the cloakroom."

"The--what?" he asked, perplexed.

"The lavatory?"

He looked blankly at her and shook his head.

"The--the toilet!" she hissed.

"Ah." He forced a smile. "Hurry back."

She said nothing, merely stood up and walked off without so much as a glance back. She was headed for the front door. He stared after her, wondering whether he would ever see her again. If she would ever let him kiss her lovely mouth, touch her beautiful... his mind and his gaze both began to drift, and Evelyn would have smacked him if she'd known what he was thinking in that instant: that he hated to see her go, but loved to watch her leave.

The doors to both bathrooms were housed in a little alcove near the restaurant's front entrance. Evelyn made her way there as quickly as she could, feeling a bit off-balance as she selected a door and pushed through it. Perhaps she shouldn't have drunk the wine quite so fast...

She gave only a cursory glance around her as she headed to the row of mirrors to check her face. Apart from the patches of pink rapidly blooming on her cheeks, she was gratified to note that she still looked rather becoming. If only she'd come here with a nice, safe gentleman instead of a rude, sex-crazed American. The nerve--asking her that! It was none of his business, that was all! Why, just because a woman wasn't married with a dozen children by the time she passed twenty, that certainly didn't mean she hadn't formed attachments in her life... It was the twentieth century, after all. Prudery was a thing of the past.

Which didn't change the fact that Evelyn herself was as pure as driven snow.

She suddenly realized the awful truth: she wasn't upset with Rick for wondering if she wasn't a virgin. She'd wondered the same about him, after all, even if she'd never have dared to ask. No, she was embarrassed because he had assumed that she _was_. But... why shouldn't he? Wasn't that an indication of how well he knew her? And wasn't that what this entire spectacular debacle was supposed to be about--getting to know one another?

Mollified, Evelyn smiled at her reflection, then turned to head out of the bathroom. It wasn't like any ladies' powder room she'd ever seen; in fact, it was rather plain. Not at all what one would expect from such a nice restaurant. And what were those things along the wall...?

Oh, God.

She was in the men's room.

She dashed out as quickly as her legs would carry her--but not before crashing into an older gentleman, who, alarmed, double-checked the sign on the door, then laughed. She brushed past him, head down, and marched back to her table, utterly humiliated.

Upon reaching the table, she slumped down into her chair, burying her face in her hands.

Great, thought Rick. He'd been hoping the bathroom break would give her time to cool off. But she seemed more angry and embarrassed now than ever. Tentatively, he asked, "Evelyn? Are you okay?" 

Evelyn looked up from between her fingers, her eyes still glittering with embarrassment. "I'm perfectly fine, thank you," she snapped, before snatching up her glass and gulping down the wine that Rick had poured in her absence. 

Rick raised his eyebrows at her and smiled, "Really? 'Cuz you seem a little... edgy…"

Evelyn didn't bother to reply, merely frowned at him. Only hours earlier, she'd experienced a heady excitement at the prospect of spending a romantic evening in the company of her own charming soldier, the dashing rogue who'd saved her life only a week earlier; now, she mused, she almost couldn't wait to get away. Could the evening be any more disastrous? She sighed in resignation, before reaching for the wine bottle and pouring herself another glass. Maybe Jonathan had the right idea when it came to dealing with stress. She'd never seen him get worked up over something as trivial as being asked a personal question, or walking into the wrong bathroom.

"Don't you think that maybe you've had enough?" inquired Rick.

"Enough? Too right I've had enough!" she blurted, unaware that she was speaking quite loudly. "I've had enough of you, and your questions, and your..." she trailed off, unable to recall exactly where she'd been going with this particular train of thought. "Your... you're adorable," she finished, smiling goofily over at him.

Momentarily stunned by her complete change of attitude, it took him only a second to rally with, "You're pretty cute yourself." He reached across the table and took her hand, preventing her from lifting any more glasses for the moment.

"Yes, I know." She glanced down at their joined hands, then coyly at him. "We should do this more often, don't you think?"

Rick didn't say a word, but his eyebrows climbed. He seriously considered letting her keep drinking, since it seemed to be working out on both sides. She probably wouldn't appreciate that line of reasoning in the morning, however. With his free hand, he surreptitiously removed her wine glass, replacing it with the tumbler of water that had also been provided. "You might want to drink this," he suggested.

"Hmm… water…" mused Evelyn. "Good idea, it'll stop me feeling poorly in the morning. Oh, Rick, you _are clever!" She smiled brightly at him, absently brushing a solitary finger over the rim of her water glass. "I'm sorry for being such a miserable so-and-so earlier, it was awful of me. Can you think of any way I could  make it up to you?"_

Rick coughed into his glass of wine; a hundred and one ways Evelyn could make up for her behaviour sprang to mind, and not one of them was something he could imagine Evelyn actually agreeing to. Saving him from replying, however, was the waiter with their meals. Rick thanked him, and ushered him off quickly, before Evelyn could say something embarrassing. He'd noticed she had a fairly liberal tongue when inebriated.

At the moment, though, her mouth seemed to be entirely occupied with eating, which was good news for all concerned. Rick turned his attention to his own plate. The food was good--well, for those prices, it had better be.

"Is it hot in here, or is it me?" chirped Evelyn.

It was her, of course, but even he knew better than to say that. "It is a little warm," he conceded, smiling.

"Perhaps you ought to take your shirt off, then. Wouldn't that be fun? Mmm." She flashed him a wicked little grin. Then, a second later: "Oh, did I say that out loud?"

"Uh, no, you didn't," he assured her, in a daze. Did she actually... had he just heard her say...?

"Oh, good." She laughed. "That would have been embarrassing. Dear me."

It was official: he had no idea what to say to her. After a few moments, during which he sat there, stared at his plate, and turned her remark over in his head, trying--and failing--to figure out what conclusions he could rightfully draw from it, he went with an old standby: "How's your food?"

"It's very good," she announced, with her mouth full. "Yours?"

He had to think about it a moment; he'd been shovelling it into his mouth indiscriminately, while contemplating the wonder that was Evelyn drunk. "It's good."

"That's good, then." She flashed him a brilliant smile, to which he was still too stunned to respond. They fell silent for a moment, but Evelyn seemed determined not to let Rick focus on anything but her. "May I ask you a question, Rick?" she asked, voice hushed to a conspiratorial whisper.

Never in his life would Rick have thought a six-word sentence from an innocent young librarian would have inspired so much fear in him. "Uh... sure, go ahead."

Her voice was timid, even though it still held the whimsical tone it took when she'd been drinking. "Are you having a nice time?"

Rick let a slow smile spread across his lips. The two of them had been so nervous upon meeting for the evening that they'd been unable to form coherent sentences, she'd become enraged at him when he tried to kiss her, her brother had attempted and succeeded in annoying them both, they'd argued almost immediately, an ex of his had reared her head, his date was drunk and he'd earlier in the evening inquired about her relationship history. And yet the complete and utter wretchedness of the evening had been entirely negated by the simple pleasure of her company.

"Best date I've ever been on," he told her truthfully. "Hands down."

"Really?" she squeaked.

"Hell, yeah! I mean... yeah," he amended, prepared to be scolded for swearing.

Evelyn simply smiled. "Well, thank you. Can't say I've ever had a 'hell, yeah' before," she mused. "I'm flattered."

"Good."

Evelyn smiled at Rick, her green eyes twinkling. Rick met her eyes, unsure of what to say next--there seemed to be an unspoken rule to this game they were playing, but what it was, he couldn't tell. He relaxed when Evelyn opened her mouth, it appeared to Rick that Evelyn knew the rule and was going to indulge him on it, or on some other delightful morsel of information about herself.

Rick's expectations, however, were dashed as Evelyn uttered no words, but an unladylike belch emerged from her lips. Evelyn's eyes widened in surprise at herself, "Pardon me!" She grinned impishly. Rick paused for a moment, not sure whether to take offence at the action or laugh at it; nothing this woman did failed to not surprise him.

"Nice one."

Evelyn looked momentarily stunned, quite sure she had never burped in public, let alone been complimented on said action, especially on a date.  But then again she thought to herself, she'd never been on a date with anyone quite like Rick O'Connell. Still unsure of what to say, she replied, "How's your food?"

He grinned. "Same as it was five minutes ago." He looked down at his plate, then back to her again, and felt his heart give a funny little jump. This was really dumb--he was getting nervous over nothing! She was the same girl she'd always been, and he'd never been at much of a loss for things to say to her before. He was starting to think that this date stuff was more trouble than it was worth. "How do you feel?" he inquired. "That wine hit you kinda hard, I think."

Evelyn frowned, and resisted the urge to poke her tongue out at him, "I'm perfectly fine, thank you. Are you assuming I'm not able to hold my liquor?"

He snickered. "Well, I've seen you tanked. I know the signs."

Evelyn recalled, abashed, the last time she'd had a little more to drink than was sufficient. Although her recollection of that particular evening was hazy at best, she seemed to remember Rick trying-- and failing—to teach her to hit, followed by her trying to kiss him. Boldly, she replied, "I haven't tried to kiss you yet, Rick, so if I were you then you wouldn't assume that she, which is me, is that tanked."

"Well, in that case..." he reached over, took up the wine bottle, and refilled her glass, grinning.

"Oooooooph," Evelyn crossed her arms over her chest, pouted, and stared at Rick. She wasn't quite sure if drinking any more would be a good thing, but she was quite certain that the smile Rick was sharing with her was an excellent thing. For a moment, Evelyn eyed the glass of water against the glass of wine which, she was almost certain, would make her do something stupid. Finally, she settled on the water, and leaned across the table to reach it.

Unfortunately, between the wine she'd already drunk, and the glasses she'd neglected to wear, she misjudged the distance and sent the glass topping over. Water spilled everywhere, most noticeably in Rick's direction, cascading over the side of the table and into his lap. With an inarticulate (and likely profane) exclamation, he leaped up out of his seat, shooting her a strange look that seemed to be amusement mixed with irritation and something else... something that made her feel rather warm.

Evelyn's eyes darted to his soaking crotch, and she smothered a giggle with her hand. After all, she really shouldn't be looking in _that_ direction... It was, however, a perfectly innocent accident, and Rick now had an unfortunate wet patch on his trousers. Grabbing a cloth napkin from the table, Evelyn got down on her knees and attempted to dab dry his, er, wet area.

"Um..." Rick took a step backwards, then another as she advanced on him. "You... you don't need to do that, I can just..." It wasn't the contact that he objected to, particularly, so much as the public venue, and the possibility that he might react in a way that might be difficult to ignore. "You--you just stay... there. Stay right where you are. Don't move."

Evelyn leaned back on her haunches, and looked up at Rick. Patronisingly, she began, "Look, stop being such a baby and—" Unfortunately, Evelyn's overindulgences, combined with the precarious position in which she was balanced, made what happened next almost inevitable. She slipped, teetered on her heels, and grasped for leverage--and, as a result, got to know her date on a much more personal level than either of them had intended just then.

"Whoa!" yelled Rick, startled. He jumped back before she could grab on any tighter, and Evelyn, with nothing to hang onto, fell forward, landing face-down on the marble floor. Guiltily, he bent down and quickly set her on her feet. They stood there a moment, neither one quite sure what to say: it was fairly safe to say that even Emily Post's exhaustive rules of etiquette did not cover this situation. 

It was, of course, at this moment that the busboy came to mop up the water on the table with a white towel. He looked from Evelyn's flushed face, to Rick's, and simply elected not to inquire.

Rick ran both hands through his hair, acutely aware of how warm the room had suddenly gotten. He needed to come up with something now that would break the tension. Something funny, but in relatively good taste. "Uh... thanks for the thought, but it's only the first date," he quipped. Amazingly, this was the most polite of the options that had occurred to him.

Evelyn's features set alight with anger. "Ooooph, how dare you?" she demanded, brushing herself down, ignorant to the audience they seemed to have obtained. "How dare you assume," she continued, "that you might--that I would--with _you_! You're loud, and obnoxious, and vulgar, and you sometimes smell and--stop smiling at me like that!"

Rick couldn't help smiling; the mild-mannered girl who'd greeted him at the door of her home with a hesitant smile was now screaming her pretty little head off, in full view of a busy restaurant. And he'd thought _he_ was going to be the one to draw attention to them.

It appeared, however, that things had gone too far for Evelyn. With a dramatic stamp of her foot, she threw the damp napkin on the floor, turned on her heel, and marched out of the restaurant, leaving a room full of somewhat amused people staring at the befuddled American.

Rick dashed out of the restaurant as soon as he could manage to pay the bill, not even bothering to wait for his change. He looked around, but couldn't see her anywhere. Damn it. He considered stopping passers-by and asking if any of them had seen a very dressed-up, very pretty, very pissed-off young woman headed this way, but thought better of it. Maybe... maybe she didn't want to be found. Maybe he'd really blown it this time. Him and his big mouth.

He cursed under his breath, then started walking in the direction of the only place where he knew she felt safe, other than home. Hopefully he could catch her before she got to the museum--after all, she had keys to get in, and he didn't. If that was even where she was going...

//I feel like you know me well

I've tried to let you see me for yourself

I feel like I'm…I'm out of my head

I've got this thing for you//

Evelyn stumbled up the steps to the museum, the jumble of keys jingling in her cold hands. She wasn't quite sure why she was so angry at Rick; she only knew that he'd upset her, and that she simply couldn't bear the thought of spending another moment with him. She was muttering all this to herself, even as she tried, and failed, to jam a key into the lock. "...stupid, nasty, gorgeous, nasty, horrid even… I don't like him one bit."

Evelyn was so intent on convincing herself of Rick's defects that she failed to hear him approach. "Did I hear 'gorgeous' in there?" he murmured, as he slipped his large hand over her small one and easily twist the key in her hand to open the door.

"I'm still mad at you," she informed him, preceding him into the dimly-lit museum.

"I know." She did not, he noted, try to keep him from following her inside.

"And I think it was horrible of you to embarrass me that way."

"I know."

She led them along a dark corridor, her heels rapping sharply against the hard floor. Rick wondered how she could possibly see her way without a torch--but of course, she came here all the time, and the lighting was never great, even during the day.

At last they came to a set of rooms just off the entrance to the library. Evelyn whirled around to face him. "You're really not a very nice person, you know!" she exclaimed, her shouts echoing back to her from the museum's cavernous vaulted ceiling.

He shrugged. "I do the best I can..."

"Well." She folded her arms and glared up at him. "We're alone. It's dark. I'm surprised you haven't tried to kiss me yet."

Rick smirked, suddenly confident. "Hey, you're the one that's been drinking. I thought that was _your job."_

Evelyn glared for a moment, and then her look of defiance crumbled. "I'm not some nasty little trollop like your friend at the restaurant," she sniffed, unheedful of the tears creeping down her face. "I don't normally, well, ever, drink. I don't go to dinner and embarrass myself horribly in front of everyone in the room, and I most certainly don't go touching men's… You're just a bad influence on me!" she finished.

Rick rolled his eyes. As usual, she'd made it all out to be his fault.

"I've decided," she announced emphatically, perching on the edge of her desk, "That I dislike you. A lot."

"You already said that," Rick pointed out reasonably, keeping his steps slow and steady as he approached.

"You wouldn't even kiss me when I asked you!"

He shook his head, trying to see if the pieces would fall into place that way. They didn't. She was just plain nuts. "What?? When?!" he demanded.

"If you're not even going to listen to me, then perhaps I don't want you to kiss me after all."

Okay, now he was totally confused. For a second, he just gaped at her. "Are you still drunk?" he asked finally.

"I might be." Which meant probably not. She'd never admit to it if she were really inebriated. But it provided her with a convenient excuse for saying whatever she wanted to say, so he let it slide.

"Should I kiss you _now?"_

She threw up her hands and made a disgusted noise. "If you have to ask--!" she exclaimed.

Well, that was it. He'd had enough. Without giving her a chance to get another senseless word in, he took two steps forward, grabbed her right up off the desk, and kissed her with such intensity that, before long, she could barely remember her own name, let alone what they'd been arguing about.

When they finally drew apart, they were both panting softly. Foreheads pressed together, they smiled. This was what they'd both longed for all evening--the simple comfort of one another's arms. Rick wanted to say something charming to her, something sweet--just the insipid sort of thing he figured most girls liked to hear. But Evelyn was proving time and time again that she wasn't like most girls, and so Rick opted to say nothing, to enjoy the companionable silence and stay locked in her soft embrace for as long as she would allow.  

"I'm sorry for being such rotten company this evening," Evelyn finally muttered, burying her blushing face in his shoulder.

"Nah," he assured her, "you were great. I'm sorry I was a jerk about when you... you know." He knew what he was about to say next would probably be his downfall, but he couldn't resist. "You gotta admit, though... the look on your face..."

To his surprise, the eyes that peeked up at him were brimming with laughter. "What about the look on your face? I've never seen you look so scared!"

"Damn straight I was scared! You could have done some serious damage if I hadn't moved as quick as I did!" He gazed down at her, suddenly serious. "I think you could do some serious damage to me anyway," he murmured, not talking about physical injury anymore.

"I think I'll allow you to stay in one piece," she announced imperiously. "I've decided I like you again."

"That's good." If that was all it took, he reflected, he could make her love him before the night was over.

The sudden surfacing of the word into his conscious mind stopped him short: it was the first time he'd associated it in his mind with Evelyn, in any capacity other than _I love the way she..._ But it didn't feel wrong, so he let the word settle there, take up root. He'd need some time to get used to the idea, but... yeah. He could love this girl.

"We should have all our dates here," he suggested, glancing around the dark, disorganized room.

"I think that'd be a little too much like mixing business with pleasure." Evelyn's smile became devious. "But after tonight's escapades, I think the more private, the better…"

Rick nodded. "Definitely. I think this is the best time we've had all evening. You haven't yelled at me for at least, oh... five minutes?"

"For three and a half of those minutes my mouth was otherwise occupied," she reminded him with a cheeky grin.

"'You knocking it?" he asked playfully. The evening had been tense, to say the very least, and at times he'd be willing to give in and say to hell with it, but the feeling of her small body wrapped in his arms was second to nothing. He'd gladly go through that hell all over again, just to receive her kiss as his reward. Of course, looking down at her pouted lips and slowly fluttering eyelashes, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have to.

He leaned down to kiss her again, and she was ready and willing... and then she sighed, and turned her face from his.

"What?"

"Nothing." She felt silly even thinking such thoughts at a time like this.

He tilted her chin up, prompting her to meet his gaze. "No, that was something," he insisted. "What's wrong?"

"I wanted us to do things properly," she said miserably, wishing she could explain herself better. "I wanted us to do things ordinary couples do--go on dates, go to restaurants or to the theatre or dancing, things like that. But it just won't work! All we ever do is argue, or--or this."

"I thought this was good," he said dubiously.

"It _is_ good. It's wonderful. But I don't know if it's enough, that's all. We like each other fine as long as one of us isn't talking, but what are we supposed to do..." What she couldn't understand was, why he was suddenly smiling at her. "I'm not joking, Rick," she informed him, just in case he thought otherwise.

"No, I know. I guess I just see things a little differently." He shrugged. "I mean... I like arguing with you. I think it's exciting. And you think so too. C'mon, admit it."

She considered this. It was true that standing up to him when he shouted, saying things she knew would infuriate him and watching him try to work them through in his mind, gave her a thrill unlike anything she'd ever known.

"Besides, he added, "ordinary is boring. If you were ordinary, I'd have probably fallen asleep half-way through our date."

"You just like to argue because you're a big bully," she told him.

He grinned. "Yeah? You're a know-it-all."

"You're tactless."

"You're too subtle."

"You're not subtle at all!"

"You're too wordy!"

"Oh, am I?"

"Yeah--in fact, you're talking too much right now!"

"And what are you going to do about it?" she challenged.

Rick never could resist a challenge. 

He didn't really dislike her talking as much as he claimed, but he loved the way she felt against his body--like she belonged to him. He loved that when he finally did get to kiss her, without her finding some fault in the situation, she would give in completely—there wasn't a thing about her that wasn't focused on him.

"Mmmm." Rick smiled as he drew away from Evie's lips. "I guess I fixed that problem..."

Only half an hour earlier, Evelyn would most likely have taken offence at that comment; now, wrapped safely in Rick's arms, she let it slide. "You know," she replied, with a coy look, "I'm very tempted to start talking too much again…"  

Rick grinned; despite his earlier remarks, he liked the varying tones of her voice, and her cute, proper accent, and then way she stumbled over her own words when she was nervous. It was apparent, however, that she was no longer nervous around him as she prompted him to kiss her… and who was he to deny a lady?

The kiss went on for so long that Rick was tempted to damn convention, forget where they were and how short a time they'd known each other. It was easy, in the darkness, to take liberties with one another, without being embarrassed or shy. They were both ready, she seemed willing, and he was definitely able... but, surprisingly, he found himself breaking the kiss. "I think it's probably time I took you home," he told her softly.

Evelyn looked up at him quizzically. Had she missed something? Weren't they having a wonderful time? "I could stay here all night," she assured him. When he still didn't respond, she went on the offensive and moved to kiss him, wondering if this was some new game.

It wasn't. He pulled away, as nicely as he could manage. "I know you could," he replied. "I could too. That's the problem."

"I see..." She didn't, really. Why did he want to cut short the best time they'd had all evening?

He sighed. "Evelyn... if we stay here too long--" he stopped short, not sure how to explain it without being crude. "It's only our first date," he said finally. "We're gonna have lots more opportunities to do this kind of stuff. But sometimes it's hard to know when to stop. I don't want you to think I'm, you know, taking advantage of you."

Evelyn paused for a moment, having finally realised the nature of their conversation, "Rick," she began softly, "You're not going to 'take advantage' of me. I'm an independent woman, capable of making my own decisions--not some floozy you picked up in a bar."

"Don't you think I know that?" Rick demanded. "You're the most respectable woman I've ever met, never mind actually dated... and I don't want to screw it up."

"So don't," she prompted, pressing a soft kiss against his jaw. He started to waver, wondering where the harm was, really, in giving the girl what she wanted. "Jonathan won't even begin to get worried about me for hours yet," she added. "Can't we just... spend time together?"

Hours... a lot could happen in hours.

Rick jerked away. Desperate to erase the frown he saw settling on her brow, he insisted, "Evelyn, I love every moment that we spend together, and I think you're great, I really do…"

"I see," Evelyn muttered, abashed.

"No, Evie, I don't think you do. It's because I think you're so great that I can't spend time with you. Every moment that we spend together feels like it's just gonna be harder for me to say goodnight and take you home. Besides," he added, grinning, "do you really want Jonathan to feel like he has to defend your honour? He could get hurt."

She laughed. "All right. Just... just kiss me once more?" she asked, eyes pleading.

"Okay. One more for the road."

The interval that followed left Rick doubting his own convictions, as Evelyn tackled him with renewed ardour, opening her mouth to his. Underneath her sweet and innocent exterior, this girl was definitely trouble. What harm would it do, after all, to stay another few minutes... another hour... hell, maybe even the whole night? At least she'd be early for work in the morning.

But it was important to Evelyn to take things slow. Whether or not she was in a state to acknowledge that at this particular moment. And somewhere along the line, he realized, what she wanted had become more important than what he wanted.

Breaking the kiss at length, he remarked, conversationally, "There. Ready to go?" He tried to make his voice sound even, tried to give the impression that it wasn't killing him to keep turning her away like this, and managed--barely.

Evelyn nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and let him take her hand to lead her from the museum.

+++

The short walk home had been the least eventful part of the evening. Neither had much to say, so instead they'd merely savoured the experience of walking together--first holding hands, and later arm in arm, which made Rick feel like a real gentleman for possibly the first time in his life.

As Rick guided Evelyn up the steps to the porch, she turned to face him, smiling. "Thank you for a lovely evening."

He smirked. "Evening?"

Rolling her eyes, she conceded, "Oh, fine. Thank you for a lovely last thirty minutes of an evening."

"My pleasure."

An awkward silence ensued, the pair having lost the ease they'd found in each other's company only moments before.

"So, uh, we should do it again sometime?" Rick suggested. He hadn't meant for it to come out as a question. He tried again: "I mean, if you want to, we can... I'd like to, anyway... and, um, I know it wasn't the best date ever, and I'm pretty sure that was mostly my fault, but er, I promise not to get you drunk next time… I mean if you want there to be a next time… even though, er…"

"Rick," Evelyn interrupted, "you're babbling."

Rick stopped talking, his eyes darting from hers, to her lips, to the closed door in front of them. 

"Oh for goodness' sake, never mind all that silly prattle in the museum. You're out of danger now. You're _supposed to kiss me goodnight."_

He grinned. "Try and stop me."

It was the deepest kiss they'd shared yet, and it definitely went on for longer than was proper on a first date. Not that either party had cause to complain. They didn't take any notice when a light came on in the front window of the house--then went off again. Then on, then off, several times in succession. They didn't even hear the doorknob rattling, so involved were they in their pleasurable pursuits.

Neither, however, could quite manage to ignore the agitated yelling that preceded the flinging open of the front door: "Is it too much to ask that no one mauls my sister on the doorstep of my own home?!" Jonathan demanded. "Is that so difficult an undertaking--that you simply say good night, and refrain from keeping your grubby paws off her long enough for her to get through the bloody door?"

"Guess so," remarked Rick with a shrug. Evelyn laughed, hiding her face in his shirt. She wasn't quite certain whether to feel embarrassed or elated. "Sorry," he added.

Jonathan glared at Rick, whose hands had wandered slightly beyond the realms of respectability. Rick immediately let go of Evelyn, who smiled up at him and whispered, "Tomorrow night?"

Evelyn simply turned to face her brother and glared, waiting for him to depart back into the house. After a long battle of raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes, Jonathan finally acquiesced, and walked back inside, announcing, "I'm just letting you say your goodbyes, mind you. No more funny business."

As the door closed on them, they grinned at each other, more amused than chagrined by Jonathan's interruption.

"So, tomorrow?" Rick inquired.

Evelyn nodded. "Pick me up at eight?"

Rick agreed, and bestowed a final kiss on her lips. He'd meant it to be light and quick, but things didn't work out that way. Evelyn held him fast, and he didn't particularly feel like making the effort of breaking away.

"Mmmm," she murmured, and smiled into his kiss. A part of him wished he hadn't brought her home. There was only so much he could get away with on her doorstep.

"I can hear lips smacking!" came a rude bellow from inside of the house. "And if you don't unhand my baby sister immediately, O'Connell, then by God, I'll make you wish you'd never been born!"

"Oh, Jonathan, do shut up!" Evelyn yelled back, exasperated. She beamed at Rick, and then, without any more 'funny business', stepped inside and quietly closed the door. Rick stood at the door a moment longer, savouring the taste of her, and the weightless feeling that had enveloped him.

Her brother had retreated to the corner of the front room, and stood watching her expectantly.

"Well?"

"Well, what?" she said innocently.

"Don't give me that rot, Evie... how was your evening?" He poured himself a drink and sat down, prepared to listen to an evening's worth of woe. Knowing his sister, he didn't doubt that there had been a good deal of confusion, frustration, accidents, arguments, rudeness, inappropriate behaviour, Biblical plagues, and the like. At least it had apparently ended well, for which he was grateful.

"It was..." she seemed to consider the question seriously for a moment. How could she best describe everything that had gone on? The many things that had gone wrong--and the one thing that had been spectacularly right? "Oh, Jonathan, it was... perfect," she sighed. "Absolutely perfect."

Jonathan made a gagging noise. "Oh, go to bed, you silly girl."

Evelyn's feet didn't even seem to touch the ground as she brushed past him, tousling his dark head. He pretended to be disgusted, but she knew Jonathan was happy for her.

She floated down the hall to her room as if in a dream. It was ridiculous, and she tried to dismiss the thought, but she knew--she just _knew_--that Rick O'Connell was going to be the great love of her life. She couldn't explain how she had come to be so certain on the subject, but she was. She couldn't tell him, of course; bringing up ideas like love and marriage when they'd only just begun to know one another was sheer disaster, even Evelyn could see that. But, perhaps, given time... and many more evenings like this one... who knew what might happen?

She couldn't possibly have known, but at that precise moment, Rick was wandering up the street, grinning to himself, thinking the exact same thing.

~ finis

Reviews welcome… wanted, in fact ;)


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